HallowEd 2: Nightmares
by 42 Zombies
Summary: A year after last Halloween, the Ed's had hoped everything would be normal. But a strange force starts bringing nightmares to life and everyone's in danger! And the fact that there's a killer on the loose doesn't calm anyone down, either...
1. October 1st

October 1st

**October 1****st**

_Author's Notes: Welcome to the exciting sequel to Hallow Ed! Hallow Ed 2: Nightmares! We'll be doing a chapter a day, so make sure you… read often, I guess. Mumble._

_I do not own Ed, Edd and Eddy or Halloween. I also don't own Godzilla. Or Akira. Or Death Note, or Yu-Gi-Oh!, or Psychonauts, or West Side Story, or Homestar Runner, or Doctor Who, or the Former Soviet Republic, or Johnny the Homicidal Maniac, or the Colbert Report, or a rabbit, or Avenue Q, or No More Heroes, or Penny Arcade…_

* * *

3:00 AM:

A beam of light penetrated the darkness. A shadow reached into the square of light and pulled out a shape. What was it? Who was this intruder into the darkness; the near-perfect beauty of the not-yet-morning?

Oh, it was Ed. And a refrigerator. As Ed single-handedly destroyed all of the poetry of the moment by pulling a jar of 'MEAT CREAM' out of the refrigerator. He hadn't been able to sleep.

Unscrewing the lid off of the container, Ed stuck his hand into the meat hungrily. The salty, meaty taste of the butter-like substance helped him forget his nightmare, at least for a while. It had been the one with the bubbles again…

_Creak…_

The clichéd horror sound-effect startled Ed. It had come from behind him… someone walking. Ed turned around slowly. He gasped in horror. He dropped the Creamed Meat.

"What are _you_ doing here?!"

* * *

7:00 AM:

_"…And there were no survivors. On a lighter note, ten men were found in the town of Doom City, strangled to death last week. Police have yet to reveal any evidence, though they claim that no fingerprints were found on the victim's bodies. So, I guess that would be a 'no-hands-on' experience, eh, Kyle?"_

Double D calmly put his backpack on and turned the radio off. He had just finished a delicious, non-sugared and non-flavored cereal. His parents weren't home (What else was new?) and their sticky notes covered almost every inch of the kitchen.

Everything was gathered; Edd prepared to leave his house to go to school. He walked to the screen door, but before he could open it someone on the outside did it for him. Eddy stood waiting for him.

"Hey, Double D… um… why do you have gloves on?"

Eddy was referring to the pair of rubber gloves stretched onto Double D's dainty hands. There was a friendly, intelligent smile from the Sock-Head.

"Caution, Eddy; there are hundreds upon hundreds of tiny microbes flying around this time of year." "Damn… I thought you were getting cooler, man. What's up with the sudden germaphobe routine?"

Edd sighed as he stepped out of his house and closed the door. He and Eddy walked towards the sidewalk to make their way to school. "Well… after everything that happened last Halloween, I thought it would be wise to take—"

"I think it would be wise for you to shut up." Eddy interrupted. When he saw his friend's surprised expression he sighed. "Okay, look; that weird scarecrow guy's toast, okay? Jack promised us. And you got your girlfriend to promise she won't do anything."

Double D cringed. "Please don't call Petrificia that. I'm still trying to get over what she did last October."

Eddy laughed fiendishly. "Hey, don't worry, man. You've had a whole year to get over it." "What about the evil cult that tried to take over my mind?" "Oh, yeah; well, you've had about a week to forget about them."

"That's not the point, Eddy." Double D muttered. Eddy looked at him curiously. "What? What's the oink?"

"No, Eddy… there have been all sorts of weird things happening around me lately." Double D murmured. "Last Halloween was probably the weirdest; then there was the time my brain got sucked out and the time I thought everything was a musical… maybe I'm attracting danger."

"Or maybe you're an idiot." The school was in sight now. "All of this weird stuff is pure coincidence. It has nothing to do with you or that horrible secret under your hat. You're just being paranoia."

Double D didn't bother correcting him. He was right, and that was comforting; Double D really had nothing to do with what was happening. But… what did?

He didn't have time to think about that, though. It would be a long school day.

* * *

3:47 PM:

"…Okay, look… I'm sorry about that whole 'trying to kill you' thing." The young man fidgeted uncomfortably. He held the pay-phone as close as he could without actually touching it to his face. "I wanted to preserve the good in our relationship, Devi; I explained that to you already.

"I guess it's not acceptable; if every date did that then there wouldn't be many people left." He ran his gloved hand through his black, spiky hair. "But… we're under the assumption that my mind is far from normal, aren't we? I think it would even be safe to call me insane."

He shifted awkwardly in his cool, knee-high boots. "In my last apology you wound up yelling at me… since I'm talking to your answering machine, there's not really a chance of that happening.

"Um… Devi, I care about you enough to ignore you. I know that if we're around each other for too long you'll give me some reason to kill you. I don't think I could ever lo—like you enough to not kill you… so the least I can do is ignore you.

"Um… this is Johnny. You know me. Um… bye."

_Please insert correct change to begin your call._

Johnny's glassy eyes widened in shock when the automated voice said this. He angrily ripped the phone off its chord and tossed it aside. "Damn… didn't put in enough money to reach her. And I practiced that apology!"

Johnny C. (Nny, to his few friends) slowly became aware of a presence behind him. He turned to see a small, big-headed kid carrying a piece of wood. The kid looked strangely familiar… where had he seen him before?

"Oh… sorry." Nny awkwardly apologized. "I was trying to call someone. I'm sure you can find another pay-phone to use."

Nny quickly got into his small, piece-of-crap car parked next to the phone and began pulling out. He had parked in front of a candy store and a hardware store. He could just see something in the alley…

It looked like a door…

* * *

Author's Notes: _… or Greenday, or Nintendo, or the Metal Gear franchise, or Duke Nukem, or the Island of Dr. Moreau, or a normal island, or Marvel comics, or Wikipedia, or Godzilla again, or Fable II, or the legal rights to monkeys, or a vampire minion, or a vampire, or a minion, or Cartoon Network, or my own body, or 1984 by George Orwell, or… um…_

_What was I supposed to be doing?_


	2. October 2nd

October 2nd

**October 2****nd**

_Author's Notes: Okay, so I didn't get to write the first chapter yesterday like I meant to. But I'm gonna make up for it! It's not like I've got anything better to do._

_Though I _would _like to watch a few episodes of Buso Renkin… maybe I'll do that first. Yeah, I'll just write this in about an hour._

* * *

8:00 AM:

Class was starting. The students filled the clean, white science room as the balding, bitter teacher took roll. The smell of chemicals, cleaning supplies, and dead frogs filled the cold air.

Double D sat in his usual seat. An empty seat sat next to him, mocking him with its seatness. That was usually where Ed sat. He hadn't been in school yesterday either. If he'd gotten stuck in the toilet again…

Then, for a flash of a moment, Edd's mind went back to last Halloween. The dummy… the plant… everyone dying all around him and he couldn't do anything. It had been horrible. A throbbing headache, like a baseball hat in his skull, started off.

Double D laid his head on the table and closed his eyes in a desperate attempt to quell the headache. After a few seconds, the pain vanished and he opened his eyes.

The room was bathed in a red light, darkening the corners and filling every nook and cranny with shadows. Corpses filled every seat around him—horrible corpses that looked so familiar.

They were all of his friends. Despite their rotting muscles and lack of flesh it was obvious… Double D felt he would puke at this thought. He could see everything… it was sick! Veins, muscles and innards were all just hanging out of their…

Oh, God!

Double D watched in horror as the corpses got out of their seats. In a sickening march, the figures came to the front of the classroom. Much to Edd's shock he could hear… music. It was strangely cheerful, contradicting the horrors unfolding in the room.

The corpses—each one a mockery of someone in Peach Creek—held hands. With a sickening _squish_ they began coming together, hands melting into each other like water pouring into more water. In mere seconds, the corpses were all joined at the shoulders; like paper-dolls, but much more grotesque.

Soon, they shared legs, then hips; the heads merged together until the twelve dead forms that had been before Double D had merged into one, grotesque blob of a creature. Flies buzzed around it and a horrible stench filled the room. Double D saw that the face was an indescribable, rotted ball of flesh.

The giant corpse reached towards Double D, its flesh falling off of its hand in clumps as the music rang. Edd tried to scream but found no voice to scream with. He closed his eyes in fear…

… and opened them. His head was lying on the science table. Ed's seat was empty. There was no music, no red lights, and no headache… how had he fallen asleep? He hadn't even been tired…

* * *

4:06 PM:

"Man… Halloween's a while away."

Eddy sighed as he sat on the cliff overlooking the beach. Nobody was swimming in it; too chilly. But when Summer came around it would fill up with the children of the Cul de Sac. Until then it was a decent place for Eddy to pound his slightly-below-average brain cells together.

He had lied when he told Double D not to worry about Halloween. He was terrified—he had died, and that was bound to instill a bit of nervousness. Who was to say that the past wouldn't repeat itself? Definitely not Eddy. Or the guy from Silent Hill 2.

Eddy stopped thinking (it comes naturally to most people) when he saw something in the water. It looked like a little, black spot from where he was sitting but… it looked like it was in trouble.

With what he hoped was dramatic flair, Eddy climbed down from the cliff and ran up to the shore. A few yards in, he could see a woman (fairly-attractive) with brown hair. She was splashing in the water, trying desperately to stay afloat.

"Are you okay?!" The question was a fairly stupid one to ask someone who was drowning. It was like asking someone who was on fire if he knew the time.

"Help!"

The one-word reply was fairly predictable. What else would you have time to say when you were so busy drowning?

Eddy quickly turned and hightailed (Meaning, 'to run using a stupid word') it to the road. Much to his luck and plot convenience, he saw a police car pulled over on the side of the road. He ran up to the officer.

"Uh… sir! There's a lady drowning!"

The officer, leaning against his squad-car (Eddy could vaguely hear the Nightrider theme), shrugged nonchalantly. "So?"

"You're the police! Shouldn't you do something!"

The policeman merely shrugged again (Apparently the only movement he could make). "Whatever. Not my problem. I just do… car things."

With a groan of exasperation, Eddy turned and ran back to the beach. He pulled his shirt up over his head, preparing to jump into the briny, polluted depths. But he stopped when he un-heard something—there was no splashing.

Eddy pulled his shirt back on and saw that the water was calm. So calm that it seemed impossible that anything could be living in it. Even if someone was drowning, there would be little ripples or something… wouldn't there?

He looked down and saw tiny, round prints in the sand leading away from the water. The way they moved didn't match normal footprints. Hell, the prints didn't match normal footprints.

With a sigh, Eddy simply turned and walked away.

* * *

Author's Notes: _So Buso Renkin was good. I feel bad, because I don't have time to write a chapter, though. Oh, well; at least I saw hot Homunculus-on-Getting-killed-with-a-lance action! Well, I'll write some tomorrow._

_Wait… why am I even writing _this? _Nobody's gonna read what I'm not putting up… huh. Weird. It's like I'm stupid or something. Oh, well; first chapter tomorrow._


	3. October 3rd

October 3rd

**October 3****rd**

_Author's Notes: That's weird… I went onto my account online to stare at the screen for no apparent reason, and somebody had already posted the first two chapters of HallowEd 2! How could that happen? I know I got distracted, but I couldn't have gotten _that_ distracted._

_I'm going to get to da boddom a'dis! But first, I think I'll go eat._

* * *

DREAMTIME:

Nazz hung upside-down over the bottomless darkness. She would have tried to climb to safety, but the straight-jacket she wore limited her movements a bit. She tried to scream, but found her mouth gagged—only a whimper came out.

In the darkness, two pairs of glowing, red eyes opened. They stared at Nazz for a while before something crawled out of the darkness above Nazz.

The creature crawled on six skinny, spider-like legs. The body that the legs supported only vaguely resembled a human's; the arms faced the wrong direction and the legs came out of the back, suspending the body a few feet above the ground. A dark hole was placed in-between its shoulders where its head should have been.

Then, with a popping sound, a head slithered out of the hole. It was attached to a long, serpentine neck that extended the creature's head until it was right next to Nazz. The creature's mouth hung open and Nazz could see that it had no tongue; it did, however, have four pairs of grotesque, red eyes.

_"V… m… numb… r…"_

The Hanging Body screamed, making Nazz swing back on the rope she was suspended on. As the force of the monster's scream caused her to spin around, she could see she was heading towards a spiked wall…

* * *

9:30 AM:

Nazz gasped for air as she woke up. What had she eaten last night?! She panted heavily and realized that she had stopped breathing for a moment in her sleep. If she'd stayed asleep, she could have died…

She got out of her bed dizzily. She realized that she must have overslept for some reason… but that dream… she could remember it more vividly than any other dream she'd had before. Dreams weren't supposed to be like that…

* * *

9:35 AM:

"Damn… she woke up." The man sat in his car parked at the entrance to the Cul de Sac. He had his fingers on his temples, and when he took them off one of the windows in his car cracked. It was weird.

"What should I do now? Maybe you could try someone else." The man nodded at his question and answer calmly. And weirdly. He was very weird.

The man turned the keys in his car and pulled out of his parking space. The smell of something cooking wafted from his engine as he drove away from the Cul de Sac. Taking one hand off the wheel, he turned on what in the 80's passed for a car-radio. Only static played as he drove.

And he liked it.

Weird.

* * *

4:00 PM:

"Um… Devi, it's Johnny again." Johnny C. once again stood at the pay-phone. "I tried to call you but I didn't have enough change. But now I hope you'll get this message. I… um… who the hell are you?"

This is a very odd message to leave someone over the phone. Of course, Johnny didn't mean it towards Devi—he was talking to the big-headed boy standing behind him, staring at him. The boy carried a plank of wood with a face drawn on it.

"I'm Jonny. You were here the other day, weren't you?"

With a sigh, the murderer (Johnny, not Jonny), hung up the phone. "Yeah… why did you follow me?"

The question sounded more like a threat. Kind of like, 'Would you mind putting your money in this bag while I point a gun at you?' or, 'Would you like to buy some girl-scout cookies?'

Jonny was oblivious to this, however. He merely smiled. "Plank told me to!"

Nny looked at the piece of wood that Jonny held. It looked a little _too_ happy. Nny slowly reached for a black suit-case at his side. The suit-case was the kind a businessman or insane sociopath would use.

"Plank knows things, mister! He said that if I followed you, something good would h—"

"THE BOARD LIES!" Nny swung the suitcase at Jonny and knocked both him and Plank to the ground. Plank, separated from his friend, lay prone on the sidewalk and was helpless against Nny stomping on him.

"Whatever this thing told you was a LIE! It's working with one of those damn _hobos_, isn't it?!"

Jonny screamed in horror was he watched his friend being boot-tortured. "Please! PLANK NEVER DID ANYTHING!"

Nny kicked the piece of wood into the road where, in a matter of minutes, a car ran over it. Plank's splinters became stuck in the car's tires, popping them and causing it to crash into a nearby store/ civilian.

"Wow… someone probably didn't deserve that, but it was pretty damn cool." Nny pulled on the collar of his coat and turned to begin walking away.

"YOU _MUDERER_!"

Nny turned and stared at Jonny for a few seconds. This kid hadn't done anything to annoy him—in fact, he seemed pretty alright. Johnny decided to let the big-headed kid live, if only because he had nice shoes.

"Um… I'm sure that the piece of wood led a full life." Johnny rubbed the back of his head awkwardly. He wasn't used to this sort of thing. "I'm sure he was free of termites and… woody sins. He's in a better place now…where the lumberjacks can't get him, I guess."

Jonny burst into tears, turning and hightailing (Ugh.) it out of there. With a shrug, Nny also began leaving—however, he stopped when he saw something strange.

At the back of an alley he was passing was a black door that hadn't been there a second before. Curious and thirsty, Johnny walked into the alley and approached the door.

**WESLEY'S SHOP OF HORRORS:**

**A shop of fear for All Hallows' Eve**

**Open Whenever**

Yeah, he would have noticed a store with closing hours more vague than Target's. When Nny reached for the door handle, he found it was locked—apparently it wasn't Whenever.

With an irritated sigh, the killer left the alley. He had no idea where he was going but he knew it'd be better than where he was.

* * *

WHENEVER PM:

There was a scuttling noise above the buildings of Peach Creek. Something crawled on the top of the Candy Shop, staring down at the streets below with four glowing, red eyes. Its mouth hung open and it had no tongue. Its body hung from six spider legs.

The Hanging Man was awake.

* * *

Author's Notes: _Okay, I'm back. I've been gone for five minutes, so I've got time to—_

_What the hell?! Someone already wrote the chapter?! I was gone for five minutes! I only ate a snack cake! Who could possible write a whole chapter in five minutes?! Unless… oh my God! It's P—_


	4. October 4th

October 4th

**October 4****th**

_Author's Notes: —d! He's the one who's been writing all of these chapters! IT ALL MAKES SO MUCH FREAKING SENSE NOW! This completely explains everything in _Lost_! _

_Well, maybe not, but it still explains who's been writing the chapters. Well, you're not getting this one, you freak! I'm not leaving until I've finished writing this chapter!_

_Oh, wait. Bathroom._

* * *

11:00 AM:

"Comfortable, old friend? Need your blind-fold adjusted? Or how about your _handcuffs?!_ I bet you'd love to get out of those!"

"Nope! I'm full."

In some building in Peach Creek, a brick room held only Ed, bound to a chair and blind-folded. Handcuffs kept oaf's hands together and a single light-bulb illuminated the room.

"My _God!_ You're really an idiot, Ed! Everybody thinks that; even Double D! I was the only one willing to look past all of that and be a normal friend! But you let Eddy _ruin_ that!"

Ed wiggled his nose in terror. "Um… my nose itches."

There was a sigh from Ed's kidnapper. The black blindfold was pulled off of Ed's head. Ed gasped in horror when he saw he was completely alone in the room.

"Jib!"

A disembodied voice laughed maliciously. "I see you haven't forgotten me, Ed! I see that Double D's lies and Eddy's corruptions haven't poisoned your brain-meats! It's been so long, old friend; it's taken me a couple of years to gain enough strength to gain enough power to be a freaking _voice!_"

Ed looked around the room in confusion. Finally, he settled his eyes on the spot in front of him where Jib supposedly was. "But… Eddy sent you to California! Nobody comes back from there!"

There was a slapping sound as something suddenly hit Ed's face. "You don't get it, do you? I'm like your inner stereo; I scream out the thoughts you're too stupid to think! I haven't been powerful enough for you to hear me for way too long now, though. And as long as you keep listening to me I'll keep getting more powerful; sooner or later people will be able to see me."

That was too many words for Ed's brain. In confusion, he broke free of his restraints and screamed. "YOU'RE NOT JIB! YOU'RE A PIE!"

Jib groaned irritably. This would be tough. "Listen, buddy, I'm just trying to help you!" Ed could feel an invisible arm around his shoulder. "You need me to help you think… and, uh… butter your toast."

Delight filled Ed's eyes at this idea. He always needed toast buttered!

"There; happy now?" Jib chuckled slightly. "Now, it's Saturday—how about we both go home and watch movies all day? And screw anyone who tries to ask for something! Work's for suckers, right, buddy!"

For a brief second, hesitance flashed in the eyes of Ed. "Um… I guess so. What about my friends?"

Ed was shoved by Jib into a wall. "They're not our friends! Double D tries to change the way we think, Ed! Eddy tries to work you to death! And Sarah's just a bitch! Why listen to any of them?!"

"But…" "Do you want your toast buttered or not?!"

* * *

8:06 PM:

"Man, I sure am unsuspecting and vulnerable."

The wealthy, lone businessman muttered this to himself as he walked down the streets of Peach Creek. He was skinny, short, and quite possibly had a cold. He had no weapons and was armed only with a suitcase.

Someone had placed a large target on his back.

As the businessman walked into a dark alley to stand still for a few minutes, there was slight movement behind him. He stopped and turned around—nothing. He must have imagined it.

Finally, the weak little man reached the end of the alley. He stood perfectly still. It was quiet—far too quiet.

So let's forget about that alley and focus on the one six blocks over.

This alley had a lot more going on in it. A door on the side of a bakery opened and a chef stepped out, carrying a box of dead kittens. "Why do have to do this every night?" The man muttered as he put the box down and picked up a box of live kittens.

Before the man could go back inside, however, a body fell on top of him. The body was completely limp and had six spider-legs growing out of its back. The man screamed at the creature's face and tongue-less mouth.

The baker tried to get out from under the creature, but the creature let out a piercing shriek that seemed to petrify him. The man watched in horror was the Hanging Man lowered its gaping jaw onto his neck and took a helpful bite.

* * *

8:08 PM:

_AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!_

"Well, looks like the next victim has died." A bald, waxy-skinned man sat in a windowless yet brightly-lit shop halfway across town. The shop was filled with strange items: voodoo dolls; a… ring, I guess; disturbingly realistic skulls; and a hand-mirror.

The man rubbed his pointy ears calmly. "Hmm… this is going to be worse than last Halloween. Jack might want to know about this."

This man—this Wesley, for that was the only word that could describe him—tapped a plastic skull on the temple five times. Instantly, the skull's eyes lit up.

_"Yes? Jack here. Anything interesting, Wesley?"_

"A Nightmare just woke up and killed someone." Wesley answered. "I think it's safe to assume that this Halloween won't be much better than last one, sir. It also seems like Seymour is in the _town_."

_"Hmm. I don't like him. He's not scary, just… creepy. It's weird. So has anyone bought anything yet? I want this Halloween to be fun!"_

"Um… Jack, don't you think we should focus more on finding Seymour than making Halloween special for the _town he's attacking?_"

_"Wesley, I wouldn't be the King of Halloween if I took years off!"_

With a sigh, Wesley turned the skull off. That last death put Seymour's victims at 11—he was just eleven more away from his goal. That was bad.

Also, he turned the skull off by smashing it with a hammer. That would hurt its retail value.

* * *

Author's Notes: _HOLY CRAP! I was in the bathroom for less then a minute! How does he do all of this?! I mean, I know he's awesome, but it's not like he can defy time and space!_

_**I SURE CAN'T, JOSH.**_

_Yeah, I—HOLY CRAP! How are you typing at the same time as me?! Wait, my name's not Josh._

_**I'M USING MY GIANT SWORD TO TYPE!**_

_That doesn't even make sense! How can you even type with that giant helmet on?!_

_**NOT VERY WELL. I HAVE TO USE SPELLCHECK A LOT.**_

_Well… you're not writing any more of my chapters! I swear I will stop you from writing the next one! DO YOU HEAR ME, P—_

_**YEAH, YEAH. HEY, I'M GOING TO FUDRUCKER'S. SEE YA.**_

_What?! DAMN YOU, FUDRUCKERS! __DAMN YOOOOOOOOOUU!_


	5. October 5th

October 5th

**October 5****th**

_HA! I'ma finally going to write a chapter! That punk's not going to get me this time! He's not going to_

_**I'M SORRY, BUT 42 ZOMBIES WILL BE UNABLE TO WRITE THIS CHAPTER DUE TO REASONS OF HIS HEAD COMING OFF. I WILL BE HAPPY TO FILL IN FOR HIM WHILE HE ROTS.**_

* * *

2:00 AM:

Nny stared at the vending machine set outside of the super-market so temptingly. One of his favorites snacks, _CRUNCHips!_, sat in the middle of the mocking device—dangling at the end of that… curly, metal pig's tail thing.

Johnny once again stared at the price listed below the snack: 15 dollars. Damn economic crisis, making snacks cost so much! What kind of world charged 15 dollars for a bag of chips allegedly made from potatoes?!

"Okay, that settles it… I'm killing myself."

He sighed the sigh of a dead man and walked away from the 'Vending' Machine. He was pretty sure he'd seen a gun shop on his way to get the snack.

* * *

DREAMTIME:

Jonny screamed with glee as he flew through the air. "OH MY GOD! THIS IS THE GREATEST DREAM EVER!" He laughed with joy up until the point where he flew into a tree.

With a considerable amount of force, Jonny pulled his giant head out of the tree's branches and landed on the bright, Astroturf-esque ground. Every tree had a face like Plank's on it; little animals crawled all over the place; the wild, untamed spirit of the forest matched Jonny's soul.

Then everything turned to crap.

There was a sound like thunder, but much more Canadian. The skies darkened as clouds blacked out the sun. Jonny could hear a voice coming from every tree around him.

"V… m… n… ber… twelve…"

The ground shook suddenly as something stepped up behind Jonny. Expecting to see a giant bear or wolf, Jonny was horrified by what he saw.

The creature was an 8-foot-tall man, very large and muscular. He wore a plaid shirt under a pair of brown overalls and plaid cap. He balanced an axe over his shoulder and smiled widely.

It was a lumberjack.

The lumberjack's face was twisted; it was hard to tell it was even a face. But somehow, even with this disfigurement, it still shouted fifteen years that would haunt Jonny forever.

**"I'M A LUMBERJACK AND I'M OKAY; I SLEEP ALL NIGHT AND I WORK ALL DAY."**

Jonny 2x4 screamed as the Lumberjack hoisted his axe in the air and swung it down onto Jonny.

_"Jonny… Jonny, are you still alive?"_

The entire world was gone; the forest, the lumberjack—everything. Jonny found himself floating in a bright, foggy void. The fog didn't move or shift; it simply stood still in perpetual motionlessness.

_"I am sorry it took me so long to pull you out of the dream, but I was seriously freaked out by that lumberjack."_

Though Jonny couldn't see who it was, he recognized the voice. "… Plank?"

_"Yes, I think so. It is hard to tell after what happened to me. Still, I am one of your voices, Jonny—even without a physical form, I still exist inside of your mind."_

Jonny wiped his brow happily. "Man, am I glad to see you, buddy! I thought that that creepy guy killed you!"

_"He has killed before, Jonny, but things like me are a bit difficult to kill. I'm not sure how to explain this, but… certain people need things like me. They need the voices in their head to develop a voice of their own, because otherwise they won't hear them."_

"So… I'm crazy?"

_"Not yet, thankfully. But some people with figments do lose their sanity. Occasionally, an outside force will… 'Hijack' the voice, shall we say. The voice can grow more and more independent until it drains all of the reality from its creator."_

Jonny's eyes widened in terror. "Is that going to happen to me?!"

_"No. The way I was created was a bit different from the typical voice. You wanted me to be real so I am, remember? We covered this before your brain got drained. And, even if I did, you could escape my influence easily with your a—oh, wait. I should probably wake you up. You have stopped breathing."_

* * *

2:06 AM:

Jonny opened his eyes and gasped for air. Well, that dream had been… informative. Jonny looked down next to him, where he usually kept Plank. At least his little buddy was still alive…

It took Jonny a few seconds to realize that someone had left a book at the foot of his bed. How had someone even gotten in here? Jonny crawled to the end of his bed and picked the book up:

_Bram Stoker's Dracula_

Jonny opened the book only to see that all the words were written in scribbles—as if a child had tried writing and failed. He flipped through the book—all the pages were like this.

Jonny was confused until he heard a gun-shot. Then he was confused and scared.

* * *

2:04:36 PM:

Johnny C. stared at the door to Ammu-Nation—a black and white sign on the front read closed, but the door was wide open. "Huh… should I go in?" Nny rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "This place is probably full of the type of people I hate when it's open… then again, I'll be dead soon, so that'll make it close down…"

He walked in quietly. The gun-store was filled with darkness and guns and air. Johnny felt around on the wall for a light-switch. In a few seconds, the lights flickered on and Nny was surprised by what he saw.

A man in his late-twenties sat behind a case of guns. The case had been broken and the man himself held a gun in his left hand. With his other hand, he placed his fingers against his temple.

The man had messy, curly black hair and wore thick glasses. His grey shirt and black jeans were decidedly… ordinary. The man was a little overweight—you could tell because he was fat. He was real weird-looking.

"Um… do you think I could borrow a gun? It'll just take a second."

The man suddenly pointed his gun at Nny without taking his fingers off of his head. "My head hurts… the idiot masses are a migraine on society." The man's eye twitched. "I'm going to change things."

"Um… I can agree with that philosophy, but I'd rather kill myself on my own terms." Johnny held out his hand calmly. "You think I could use that for a second? The chips cost fifteen dollars. That's really stupid."

The man winced. "I need to kill you… otherwise it won't count… I need to kill by Halloween…" "Um… why Halloween?" "I DON'T KNOW!" The man yelled angrily.

The man angrily pulled the trigger of the gun and fired at Johnny. As the lanky, tall figure of the man collapsed, the killer chuckled. He pulled his fingers off of his temple.

"Victim number twelve… for real this time."

* * *

Author's Notes: **_YEP. DEFINITLY. I'M REAL PROUD OF MY WORK HERE. WHO NEEDS 42 ZOMBIES WHEN YOU'VE GOT ME?_**


	6. October 6th

October 6th

**October 6****th**

* * *

WHAT TIME IS IT? :

Everything was fuzzy.

All of Johnny's senses were dull—it was like a chunk of his brain had been pulled out. He could vaguely make out a light, but everything else was a vague blur. He could feel himself lying on… something, but his whole body was too numb to figure out what.

His mind was numb, too—he couldn't remember much. Was he dead? No—he doubted being dead would feel like this. Wait… hadn't he died before? He couldn't decide if it was real or not.

Nny slowly became aware of a pain in his arm. It was something sharp—like a bee-sting or a needle. No, he probably wasn't dead… not unless he had a really weird mortician. There was something like noise all around him—talking, beeping, footsteps… he could just make out a conversation…

_"… Gun-shot to the leg… someone in Ammu-Nation… been out for a while… something's strange… he had nice boots…"_

Johnny struggled to… use his brain-thing. Through sheer determination, he managed to move his middle finger a little—just a little twitch. Suddenly, he heard another voice—one much clearer than the others.

_"I've seen him before, dad. I don't know where, but I've seen him. What's wrong with him?"_

_"… shot… leg… won't react to anything… must be in shock…"_

_"Well, I suppose so. Still, it's possible that it could be something else entirely. The brain is a mysterious thing."_

Something in Johnny's mind recognized the voice from somewhere. But that didn't matter—what did matter was that he was in a hospital. He was alive and in a hospital… well, hopefully alive.

Now, how was he going to get out?

* * *

Author's Notes: _**SORRY I HAD TO CUT THIS CHAPTER SHORT. I'M BUSY TORTURING SOME GUY WHO CAN'T ACCEPT THAT HE KILLED HIS WIFE. REVIEW, PEONS, LEST YE BE SINNERS.**_


	7. October 7th

October 7th

**October 7****th**

* * *

9:00 AM:

_"… And there were no survivors. On a lighter note, the gunshot victim from October 5__th__ seems to be surviving a lethal shot to the leg. This would have killed anyone else—especially a baby. In other news, filmmaker Uwe Boll has gone into a thousand-year sleep, promising to return one day to unleash a new reign of terror."_

"NO!"

A full mug of coffee was thrown at the TV, smashing on impact. The man who'd thrown it paced around his motel room anxiously. A gun, stolen from Ammu-Nation, was lying on his nightstand.

"He was supposed to be number eleven! I freaking shot him! You should have aimed for the head, Seymour. Yeah, yeah—you're right. I'll make sure to remember that."

This killer—Seymour Cyrus—picked the gun up off of the nightstand. He cradled it with all the care one would give a new-born baby.

"Things haven't been going as we'd hoped, Seymour… we need to kill before Halloween… I can shoot and you can use their nightmares. It'll be just like St. Silent's, Seymour… just like the orphanage…"

* * *

3:27 PM:

"Oh… this isn't a good sign."

**WESLEY'S SHOP OF HORRORS:**

**A shop of fear for All Hallows' Eve**

**Open Whenever**

It was actually a very good sign—it was well-painted and illustrated the shop's purpose very well. However, as far as omens went, it could have been better.

Nazz, unfortunately, remembered the sign all too well—its connection to last Halloween was still fresh in her memory. Almost every terror that had attacked Peach Creek had come from this shop—she'd been killed at least once by things in this shop.

Hmm… at least once? Nazz scratched her head in confusion. Shouldn't she remember how many times she's died in her life?

The door to the shop slowly opened; it was relatively the same as last Halloween, with no windows or lighting and yet somehow well-lit. The stock of the shop was all-new; Nazz could see no dummies, dolls, books, or man-eating plants.

She did, however, see Wesley.

"Ah, nice to meet you!" The tall, waxy-skinned man stepped out from behind one of the tables. A bright smile lit his face. "Welcome to my little shop! What are you looking for, my dear? Perhaps a goblin?"

Nazz nodded at Wesley. He was as creepy as ever; he did seem strangely cheerful, however.

Nazz nervously asked a question. "Um… what are you doing here again? Are those creepy people coming back?"

For a brief second, Wesley's cheerfulness was replaced by something akin to terror. "Um… I don't know what you're talking about. This is my first time here. What do you want?"

Nazz pointed at Wesley's ears. "How could I forget someone with ears like those? You were here last year! You sold Kevin a freaky demon mask!"

"… Like I said, this is my first time here." Wesley grinned nervously. "What do you want to buy? Anything! Free! Just get out."

For a moment, there was silence. Nazz was struck by the stupidity of the whole situation, and Wesley… well; he was just smiling like an idiot. Finally, Nazz sighed and decided to play along.

"Just give me something that won't kill me."


	8. October 8th

October 8th

**October 8****th**

* * *

DREAMTIME:

"Oh, man… what the Hell did I eat last night?"

Kevin walked in the darkness, staring forward at a light that seemed to be constantly moving away from him. Why was he walking towards the light? Why couldn't he stop walking?

There was no pain in Kevin's feet after what seemed like hours of walking. He couldn't feel anything—it was almost like a dream…

Wait, what if this was a dream? It would make sense if it was… did that mean he could change the dream around him? Kevin was almost positive he had heard of this before—it was called lucid dreaming or something like that.

As the big-chinned kid attempted to alter his dream, he became aware of something behind him. Without turning around, he found himself facing a creature a few feet taller than him. It wore what looked like a doctor's coat over a featureless body covered in burn-marks. Its head was like a dog's, but with a twisted smile. Needles and syringes were on its hands instead of fingers. Kevin looked down at the creature's coat and saw a nametag:

YDDEDDEDE

Kevin backed away from the creature only for it to mirror his movement, stepping towards him with the insane grin.

_"Victim… Number… 12…"_

Kevin stared back at the creature. Its mouth hadn't moved when it spoke. "Number 11? What are you talking about?"

Yddeddede inspected Kevin for a few seconds. _"Need… to kill… 24… by Halloween… world… will be… better…"_ Before Kevin could move, Yddeddede shoved its syringe-fingers into his stomach.

Fire spread through Kevin's stomach—it was like someone had shoved a flaming poker down his throat. He pulled away from the Injector and saw that the fluids in the monster's syringes were empty.

"What did you inject me with?!"

_"Don't… know… it's… your nightmare…"_

The creature charged at Kevin and grabbed him with its surprisingly dexterous fingers. Yddeddede opened its mouth and bit down on Kevin's neck.

_"You probably deserve this…"_

* * *

7:46 AM:

"Kevin! Kevin, you're going to be late to school if you don't get up!"

Footsteps marched to Kevin's room and Kevin's father opened the door. His son was lying in his bed, sleeping like a baby. A book was lying on his bed.

Kevin's father sighed and walked up to his tired son. He shook him, gently at first, and then violently. When he got no response, he tried violent—gently slapping Kevin on the cheek. Kevin didn't as much as flinch.

"I don't think your son vill be vaking up."

The sound of the voice startled Kevin's father. He turned to face a tall, pale gentleman wearing… a black cape? The man carried a cane and wore fine clothing under his cape.

"My humblest apologies, Mr.… vhatever your last name is, but your son is dead. I'm here to pick up an associate of mine and perhaps get a bite to eat." The man picked up the book—Kevin's father could see it was _Mary Shelly's Frankenstein_—and grinned. When he did so, he revealed two fangs.

"Now, I'll give you a chance to live if you can answer all of my questions correctly." The vampire tucked the book under his arm as Kevin's father gaped in horror. "First question: who vas the killer in the first _Friday the 13__th_movie?"

Kevin's father tried to speak, but terror had left his throat dry. Finally, he found the words: "Um… J-Jason's mom, the camp chef."

The vampire shrugged. "Meh. That's right, I guess. You could have given me a name, though. Second question: who von the fight at the end of _Godzilla vs. King Kong_?"

"Um… it was ambiguous! Kong was the only one seen getting away from the fight but Godzilla might have survived."

The vampire chuckled. "Very good, um… Kevin's dad. Now, my final question: if you get this question correct, am I still going to kill you?"

Realization dawned on Kevin's dad. He stared at the vampire sorrowfully. "Um… no?"

The vampire opened its mouth wide, laughing. "I'm sorry, but that is incorrect! I vas going to kill you either vay, by the vay—I'm an incorrigible liar."

Kevin's father was pinned to the ground by the vampire's skinny yet strong arm. "Who are you?!" Kevin's father yelled as the fangs neared his neck. The vampire paused for an instant.

"Dracula, formerly Count."

* * *

9:00 PM:

A tall, muscular figure hid in one of Peach Creek's surprisingly clean alleyways. The creature's deformed face showed no emotions, though it was evidently confused. It dragged its axe behind it, confused as to what it was doing.

"Um… Lumberjack?"

The creature turned around. Another, new creature stood behind him—it had a head like a dog's and a doctor's coat.

The Lumberjack stared at the creature for a few seconds. "Are you talking to me?"

"I guess so… isn't that your name?" "I'm not sure." The Lumberjack sat down on the ground with a thud. "This is my first time outside of Jonny's head… I've never experienced anything before. I don't even know if 'Lumberjack' is a proper name. Who are you?"

The creature pointed at a nametag on its coat. The name was impossibly long and unpronounceable. "I can't even read it." The creature sighed. "What am I supposed to do? I feel… a tingling feeling on my skin. I feel a weird, growling sensation in my stomach—we have memories of how bodies work but we don't know how to work one!"

The Lumberjack nodded at its new… what was it? Friend?

"Maybe we should find some place… um… warm. I understand that cold isn't good for a body." The Lumberjack rubbed the back of its head. "After that we can come up with better names for each other."

The creature in the coat nodded. "I guess so… but what about Seymour?"

Neither of them knew how they knew Seymour; they just knew him.

The Lumberjack stood up and hoisted his axe onto his shoulders. They both knew they worked for Seymour—but they were alive for now, so they might as well enjoy it.

The two new friends walked out of the alley. Nobody could see them—they weren't even sure if they existed. There was a bright building ahead—perfect for rest.

But the Lumberjack still wanted to kill.

* * *

Author's Notes: _**ONE YEAR AGO, 42 ZOMBIES UNLEASHED THE FIRST CHAPTER OF HALLOW-ED. I WAS SO INSPIRED I CHOPPED OFF HIS HEAD AND TOOK OVER THIS FAN FIC. HERE'S TO MEMORIES!**_


	9. October 9th

October 9th

**October 9****th**

* * *

8:00 AM:

Doctor Hidanstein, Chief of Medicine at Peach Creek Heart Hospital, opened the doors to the ICU. The worst cases were stored here—not an appendicitis patient or someone with a cist, but the ones who could go at any minute. The one he was focusing on was gunshot victim who, for some reason, was in a comatose state.

The John Doe—he'd had not identification on him—had black, messy, spiky hair and large, glassy eyes. He was pale and skinny—Doctor Hidanstein concluded he was one of the goth-subtype.

"Um… Dr. Hidanstein?"

The doctor turned around. An intern named John smiled at him nervously. "Um… we've got the results back from the lab; we can't identify anything w-wrong with the John Doe's body… oh, God, please don't hurt me."

The doctor sighed. His son was more competent than this intern, but Hidanstein's child was only in High School—technically not old enough to perform medicine but old enough to memorize it.

Hidanstein put on his stethoscope and checked the John Doe's pulse. It was frantic, like he was running…

… Or being chased.

* * *

DREAMTIME:

"God, I hate sleeping."

Johnny C. walked down the twisted, cracked hallways of his mind calmly. "You never know if the day before you was a dream or not… how do I know if I was even shot? Heh… that rhymed."

_"Johnny, you could at least try and wake up."_

The voice came from a bunny's severed head, floating alongside Nny as he walked. The bunny was obviously dead, so it was unclear where the voice came from.

"What's the point, Nailbunny?" Johnny asked calmly. "The world outside is filled with idiots who don't know their actions have consequences and vice-versa. Inside of me, the world is better—I'm the only person I can hurt in here, and we both know I'm pretty screwed-up already.

_"But those monsters that have been chasing you—"_

Nny grabbed Nailbunny's flying head and stared at it, smiling. "I appreciate your concern, Nailbunny, but I took care of them. I can kill anything in my mind."

The severed bunny-head somehow sighed. _"Johnny, I really worry about you. I thought this road trip of yours was so you could change somehow."_ "I have—I've changed in knowing that I'm unchangeable." Johnny sighed. "I'll probably head back home soon, though—the pickles have probably gone moldy by now."

* * *

6:00 PM:

"… Nazz?"

Double D knocked on the door to Nazz' house calmly. "Um… Nazz, we haven't seen you in school—is this because Kevin's dead?" He sighed. "I know you liked him, but you can't mope around your h—"

The door opened. Double D gasped in horror at what he saw—Nazz' make up was smudged all over her face, her hair was messed up, and she had somehow gained weight in a few days. Edd smiled. "Um… Nazz, are you—"

"I'm a horrible person."

Double D laughed nervously. "Well, you're not perfect, Nazz, but I wouldn't say—"

"Every bug I've ever stepped on—all the meat I've ever eaten and all the pain I've ever somehow caused…" Nazz began to break up into tears. "That mirror showed it to me…"

A look of worry appeared on Edd's face. "Mirror? Nazz, what mirror?"

Before he could get an answer, Nazz slammed the door shut in his face.

* * *


	10. October 10th

October 10th

**October 10****th**

* * *

8:06 AM:

"Come on, Eddy." "You finally ditch school and you wanna see if something's wrong with someone? Jeez, Double D, live a little." "She was acting so strangely, Eddy! I just want to make sure everything's okay."

Double D knocked on the door three times. When there was no response, Eddy groaned and stepped off of the front-porch. "There; can we go now?"

Edd angrily pulled on the doorknob and eventually forced the door open. His friend stared at the feat in amazement. "How did you—"

"I don't want to talk about it. Let's just say that last Halloween still has its affects on me."

The two walked into Nazz's house cautiously. There was something strange about it; almost like someone had taken something out of the house. Eddy and Edd made their way up the stairs before arriving at the door to Nazz's room.

"Um… Nazz?" Double D raised his hand to knock on the door only for it to open. Nazz stared back at Eddy and Double D sadly—she looked exactly the same as she had the previous day.

"Why are you guys here?" She asked sadly. "Shouldn't you be at school?"

The two Ed's stepped into Nazz's room. Double D tried to explain himself without looking at Nazz. "Well, Nazz, we were worried about you, so we wanted to make sure you were doing alright. I mean, with Kevin dead and Ed locked up in his house—"

Nazz wiped some of the make-up off her face with her sleeve. "It's last Halloween all over again…"

The words hung in the air between the three of them. It really was, wasn't it?

Edd quickly smiled. There was no need to worry—he just needed to lighten the mood a little. "You mentioned a mirror the other day—where is it?"

There was a cough. Double D turned to see Eddy standing next to Nazz's bed, pointing at a small hand-mirror laying on it face-down. Edd walked up to the silver mirror and looked at the back. A label read '**WESLEY'S SHOP OF HORRORS**'.

"Wesley's back in town." Double D realized. He tightened his fists angrily.

Wasn't Wesley supposed to be a good guy?

* * *

8:25 AM:

_"My God, John! Larry really was a werewolf!"_

_"Every man who is pure in heart—"_

_"Shut up. Yes, Gwen; I feel bad that I killed my son, but he was an unholy beast-man that prowled the night. And then, on top of all that, he became a werewolf."_

_"Every man who is—"_

_"Shut up! But I think we've learned a valuable lesson today—if someone close to you is hurting people, kill them with a walking stick."_

_"That's a horrible lesson!"_

_"Yes, Gwen; yes, it is… hey, you wanna go back to my place?"_

Jib groaned angrily. "Man, I hate this version of _the Wolf Man_." Ed, however, seemed to love the remade classic—he laughed out loud as the credits rolled.

Jib scoffed at Ed's chortling. "Moron… idiot… dumbass… um… stupid-face?"

As the imaginary Jib attempted to come up with more names for Ed, a change suddenly came across the TV screen. Midway through the credits, the screen turned a bright white—the white flashed off of the screen and filled the room.

As the blinding light filled the room, a shadow of a hand reached out of the TV screen and grabbed onto the edge, as if the screen was a window. A second hand reached out of the screen and grabbed the other edge—both hands pulled, pulling out a furry shadow that stood in front of Ed.

Two bright, yellow eyes opened up on the shadow and stared at Ed. Something like a mouth opened up on the beast. "RUH-ROH. RHERE'S SOMEONE HERE!"

The creature turned away from Ed and walked towards the door. It was hunched down, its arms close to the ground like some sort of primitive beast. The shadow grumbled something as it opened the door.

"ROOBY-DOOBY-ROO!"

* * *

8:28 AM:

**WESLEY'S SHOP OF HORRORS:**

**A shop of fear for All Hallows' Eve**

**Open Whenever**

The sign hung on a door at the back of an alleyway in-between a comics store and the House of Buckets. Double D noticed how Wesley's shop tended to move around—it was always where someone could find it but never where just anyone could find it.

Eddy, Double D, and Nazz stood walked through the door. To their surprise, someone was already there—a balding, fat man was buying a red-haired, ugly-looking doll from Wesley.

"Thank you." The man paid Wesley and smiled happily. "My little girl will just love this doll!" "I doubt that, but thank you for your patronage." "Oh, um… what's the doll's name?" "His name's Chucky! Make sure you keep him away from any sharp objects."

As the man exited the shop, Eddy could have sworn he heard the doll chuckle.

Wesley grinned at the sight of the three teenage. "Ah! Welcome to my little—"

"Cut the crap." Eddy stepped up to Wesley angrily. "You sold Nazz here a mirror and now she's all creepy. What's up with that?"

The shop-owner merely shrugged. "I didn't make the mirror; trolls did. Normal mirrors reflect back the beauty of the gazer—that mirror reflects back all the ugliness in the world. All of the sins, flaws, and mistakes are magnified until—"

"Why the hell would you sell that?!" Eddy hollered.

"Oh… um… for the LOLs?" Wesley chuckled nervously. He quickly gathered himself. "The mirror can come in handy, though; you'll need it for what's to come."

The way he said it seemed to freeze the air. The last words were so powerful that they had somehow rendered the three teens speechless.

Wesley grinned. "Allow me to explain: a psychic man named Seymour Cyrus is attempting to kill 22 people by Halloween. If he succeeds, he will change the world in ways so horrible that you won't be able to imagine it without pissing your pants. Right now, he's at 13 victims, and the number is only going to keep rising."

"So Kevin's death—" Wesley nodded. "He was one of the victims, as was his father. There's something else I should tell you—Seymour can enter people's dreams and rip out there nightmares. Anything a person is even slightly afraid of is his to create and control—and he's gotten his most dangerous pawn yet."

Eddy raised an eyebrow curiously. "What do you mean?"

Wesley's smile vanished, replaced by sheer nervousness. "I had an item for sale in my shop—a mask that belonged to a murderer of unequal terror. With that mask, Seymour can not only bring the killer back to life but also control him."

Double D rubbed his chin. Killers in masks?

"Whose mask was it?" He asked fearfully.

"It was a hockey mask." Wesley explained. "It was worn by a killer named Jason Voorhees."

* * *

Author's Notes: _**MAN, AM I TYPING.**_

_Oh, man… what happened?_

_**WTQ?! I CUT YOUR HEAD OFF!**_

_Yeah, well… you're stupid! So, how's the fan fic going, P—_

_**NOT BAD, NOT BAD. WE COULD USE SOME MORE REVIEWS, THOUGH.**_

_More reviews, eh? Well, if any of you readers like what you read, don't be afraid to review!_

_**OR FEEL AFRAID AND BE A WIMP. IT'S YOUR CALL.**_


	11. October 11th

* * *

October 11th

**October 11****th**

* * *

10:00 AM:

"Still no response, doctor?"

Doctor Hidanstein looked up from the John Doe. A doctor stood at the foot of the patient's bed, watching the doctor at work.

Hidanstein shook his head calmly. "He's still comatose—a gunshot shouldn't do this to a person…"

The doctor merely shrugged. "Um… sir, if I may—is it true?"

Dr. Hidanstein glared at the other doctor like a lion stares at its prey or how William Shatner stares at an idiot fan. "If you're asking about my grandfather, he's insane. Okay? Good."

There was a noise down below.

* * *

11:25 AM:

"Well, I don't know…" The Lumberjack mused as he tossed four crates of food out of his new home. "But it would make sense, right? How else could he put all of those marshmallows in his mouth?"

The creature with needles for fingers sat down on a stack of crates that had been arranged in the shape of a chair. The shop—a box warehouse—was completely empty; the presence of the two Nightmares repelled any normal human.

That was when the least-normal human ever walked in.

Seymour Cyrus strolled into the warehouse as casually as could be. A small group of strange creatures followed him—the Hanging Man, suspended by the spider-legs on its back; Dracula, as pale and dark as ever; the Wolfman, a hideous cross between man and wolf who had escaped from Ed's VCR; and a tall, green creature with bolts in its neck, stitches, and a square head.

Who could that have been?

"You haven't killed anyone." Seymour said simply to the Lumberjack and Needle-Fingers. His left eye twitched slightly and he began smiling. "Do you want me to get rid of you?"

Needle-Fingers chuckled. "N-No, Seymour—no need to do that. We were just resting. There's still time until Halloween."

Seymour reached into a brown backpack and pulled out a hockey-mask. It was dirty and slightly damaged, but there was certainly something eerie about it. "I'm going to wake Jason up soon. I want you to go to the Hospital and kill the one who survived."

The Lumberjack scratched his chin, which may have been the left side of his face. "Can't you use his nightmares?"

The killer glared at the Lumberjack angrily. "The fool's a lucid dreamer—he's controlling what he can do in his dreams… he's killing the monsters I send after him with ramen noodles."

"RAREN ROODLES?" The Wolfman exclaimed.

Seymour chuckled as he set the hockey-mask down on the floor. "You can do almost anything in a dream—strange thing is, though, is just might be possible in real life."

"Vhat should ve do?" Dracula asked as he stood between the Wolfman and the tall, green corpse.

"There's a Cul de Sac not far from here—I want you to attack it and kill as many people as you can." Seymour explained. He put his fingers on his temples and focused on the hockey mask. "Good hunting."

There were noises down below.

* * *

3:47 PM:

The doors to the old haunted house in the Cul de Sac opened up. A tall, skinny figure stepped out of the shadows and into the sunlight, shielding his eyes from the sudden change in lighting.

The figure stood up to his full height—much taller than any person. He rubbed his head and smiled.

He loved Halloween.

* * *

11:56 PM:

Hidanstein sighed as he watched the comatose patient. What was wrong with this man? He looked at his watch and sighed—he didn't need to go home yet. He had left plenty of sticky-notes for his son.

What was going on with this neighborhood? Everything used to be so peaceful—then his son turned out to be a psychic and joined a government organization. People seemed to die every year and came back repeatedly.

Was this his fault? Hidanstein had raised his son, and his son was a giant trouble-maker: his son hung out with those two derelicts Ed and Eddy; his son did who-knows-what when he was alone at home; and Hidanstein was fairly certain his son had gotten someone pregnant. He couldn't help but wonder where he'd gone wrong…

Maybe he'd used too many chemicals on the embryo…

"Um… excuse me?"

Hidanstein looked up suddenly and realized that the John Doe was not only wide-awake but also sitting up in his bed. "Was I on some sort of drug in my sleep? The dreams were weirder than usual."

Most other doctors would be overjoyed at a comatose patient awake and talking—Hidanstein merely smiled. "Delusions aren't typical of the types of drugs we use, no—would you mind telling me why you were shot?"

The John Doe rubbed his chin. "Hmm… well, I was trying to kill myself and this bastard tried to beat me to it. He shot me in the leg, I think; might have been a dream, though. I don't feel like killing myself anymore—I just want a Suck-Monkey from the 24-7."

"Well, it's odd medicine but I doubt it'll do much harm." Hidanstein smiled. The John Doe didn't return the smile. "What are you trying to s—"

_BANG!_

"14!"

_BANG!_

"15! 15 victims so far!"

The voice and gunshots came from outside the ICU. The doors were kicked down by the Lumberjack, who was followed inside by Needle-Fingers. Seymour Cyrus stepped in last—a smoking gun ready in his hand.

"I'm so close." Seymour closed his eyes happily. "I feel so alive! It's time for you all to—"

END OF CHAPTER!

* * *

Author's Notes: _**OH, HEY. I WROTE THIS WHILE 42 ZOMBIES WENT TO A DEMO FOR SOME GAME. OH, BY THE WAY, THE WHOLE CHUCKIE THING WAS JUST A JOKE—A FUN LITTLE JOKE THAT WILL TORMENT THAT MAN'S FAMILY. ALSO, THE WOLFMAN **_**IS**_** THE CREATURE THAT CAME OUT OF ED'S TV… AND HE SPEAKS LIKE SCOOBY-DOO.**_

_??: __**How cute; the freak watches cartoons!**_

_**WHAT THE—WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?!**_

_**I figured I'd just pop into this story and… **_**cut **_**out the parts I don't like. Namely, your part.**_

_**WHAT?! NO—AHHHHH!**_

_**Sweet dreams, you apron-wearing freak… man, how am I typing with this glove on?**_


	12. October 12th

* * *

October 12th

**October 12****th**

* * *

12:00 AM:

"—DIE!"

Seymour pointed his gun at Doctor Hidanstein and grinned madly. "Victim Number 16!"

He pulled the trigger.

* * *

MEANWHILE…:

Sarah opened here eyes groggily and looked around her. It was the middle of the night—why had she woken up? Her stuffed animals and dolls sat in the corner on her old toy-chest, staring at her with glassy eyes.

"I vill suck the blood from your avaiting veins."

The red-haired girl screamed and turned around. A tall, pale man stood next to her bed—his smile showed that he had pointed fangs in his mouth. A tall, Frankenstein-like monster stood behind him.

Sarah tried to speak, but instead whimpered in fear. "W-Who are you?"

The vampire's eyes narrowed in fury. He pinned Sarah to her bed with his surprisingly strong arm and glared at her with his bright-red eyes.

"You mean you don't know, bitch?!"

A loud, thumping beat filled Sarah's room. The vampire let go of Sarah and stood up to his full height. He opened his mouth threateningly and began, much to the horror of the world in general, rapping.

Dracula:

Nosferatu!

Coming at you!

With my band of thugs

And my bat crew!

Dracula!

The king of my kind

And, punk, I'll bite your face

Until I lose my mind!

Girl offers up her neck,

Well that's a no-brainer

(Head back,

Throat out)

Come and feel while I drain her!

My collar is stiff

I wash it with starch!

It's February 11th,

I ain't bitching, it's March!

It's like,

M-O-N

S-T-E-R

Houses, Girls,

And Fancy Cars

Where my bat crew?

Where my bat crew?

Where my bat crew?

Where my bat crew?

Sarah crawled out of her bed awkwardly as Dracula bobbed his head to the strange beat. Why was it that crap like this kept happening?

Suddenly, a furry hand darted out from under Sarah's bed and grabbed her leg. A hideous, wolf-like creature crawled out stared at Sarah with its yellow eyes.

Wolfman:

Check this!

Werewolf's here,

Getting reckless.

Respect this

Or Dracula will bite you on the neck, bitch!

Full moon's out

Here comes the hair again

I'll break your freaking kneecaps

Like you was Nancy Kerrigan

You think a car crash killed James Dean?

I picked my teeth with him,

If you know what I mean

And if you don't know, I mean I ate him

Dracula:

He ate him!

Wolfman:

Yes.

Pool party's the shit.

JFK

No bullets

I ate his face

Abe Lincoln,

John Lennon,

Puff Daddy's friend Mace

Dracula:

So that's what happened to him!

Wolfman:

I got so mad when Teen Wolf was released

I kidnapped Michael J. Fox

And gave him Parkinson's Disease

Yeah…

'Cause werewolves can give people Parkinson's Disease.

Dracula and Wolfman:

M-O-N

S-T-E-R

Houses, Girls,

And Fancy Cars

Dracula:

Where my bat crew?

Where my bat crew?

Where my bat crew?

Where my bat crew?

Sarah angrily yanked her foot free from the wolfman's grasp. She jumped onto her bed and tried running past Dracula, only for him to grab her and pin her to the wall. Just when she thought the rapping was over…

Wolfman:

It's like,

Yo, Dragon-Mummy,

What you got to say?

You'd better break it down

Dracula:

In an awesome way!

The closet opened and a bizarre, reptilian creature covered in bandages stepped out.

Dragon-Mummy:

Yo, I'm the Dragon-Mummy

And I came to make it good

Oh, Dracula and Werewolf—

You make it so good!

Make it good, Big D

Dub-Dub, make it good

Hairy hands,

Sagging teeth

Uh-oh!

Make it good!

It must be off the loom

'Cause I see you make it good

What you got under that hood?

Wolfman and Dracula:

An engine!

Dragon-Mummy:

Make it good!

I will make it good

All day and all night

If I didn't make it good?

Dracula:

What a terrible fright!

Dragon-Mummy:

This mummy is a beast

And I'll make it good forever

Would you ever stop making it good?

Dracula and Wolfman:

Never!

Dragon-Mummy:

Bitches

Gauze

Dragon

Paws

Sarah watched the 'Dragon-Mummy' return to the closet just as randomly as it had arrived. "Please, you can kill me already!" Sarah exclaimed. "Just, for the love of God, stop r—"

Frankenstein:

Ooh, Frank's in the house

With my big-ass brow!

I've got a dead guy's head

How you like me now?

I party every night

From dusk till dawn

I'm made of different parts

Like freaking Voltron!

Got bolts in my neck

Square for a head

Screws in my shoes

And I like my ladies dead!

Crush cars with my fists!

I pick 'em up and mash 'em!

Incredible Hulk stole my color

So I'm gonna 'Hulk Smash' him!

Like,

All:

M-O-N

S-T-E-R

Houses, Girls,

And Fancy Cars

Dracula:

Where my bat crew?

Where my bat crew?

Where my bat crew?

Where my bat crew?

All:

M-O-N

S-T-E-R

Yachts and Yachts

And Yachts some more

The rap came to a halt when the group of monsters realized Sarah was gone.

"ROH, CRAP!" The Wolfman exclaimed. "RI TOLD ROU RE SHOULD HAVE RUT IT DOWN TO RONE MINUTE!"

"Shut up!" Dracula ordered. He picked up his cane, which he had dropped while crump dancing, and straightened his collar. "The dragon-mummy's part vas essential! Besides, I think the whole thing makes us seem more fearsome!"

The Wolfman growled something angrily.

Dracula sighed. "Why don't you just talk like you did in the rap?" "RHAT RURTS MY ROAT!"

* * *

2 MINUTES EARLIER…

He pulled the trigger.

He pulled it again.

He pulled it again.

Finally, Seymour looked at the gun that was supposed to be firing bullets into Doctor Hidanstein's stomach. A quick check revealed that the firing chambers had no bullets in them… had he used up all of the bullets already?

"Hey, are you the guy who shot me?" Johnny C. asked. Seymour simply nodded.

"Jerk." Johnny said childishly.

"What are you doing here?" Hidanstein asked. The nightmares behind Seymour didn't scare him—he'd seen worse. "Take your friends and get out of my hospital."

Much to the Chief of Medicine's Surprise, the two monsters turned and seemed like they were going to leave. However, a sign from Seymour made them stop. The maniac glared at Hidanstein for several seconds before pointing at him.

"Boys, I want you to kill this bastard for me."

* * *

12:02 AM:

Double D sat up in his sleep. Something was very, very wrong.

He got out of his bed tiredly and walked over to his window. He immediately noticed that the streetlights weren't on. That was odd—why would they be off? He soon saw a shadow run out of Ed's house.

Wesley's warnings echoed around Double D's room. Was Seymour killing people? If he was, it was worth checking out.

Edd quickly got dressed. His parents were both at work in the hospital—they should be safe there.

There were screams down below.

* * *

DREAMTIME:

_JIMMY…_

_JIMMY…_

_JIMMY…_

Jimmy stepped through a door. His feet touched wet, green grass. The world around him was dark—not night, but a strange kind of twisted darkness that hung in the air and crawled into the back of your eyes.

He was in some sort of Summer Camp. Was it that Whispering Rocks place that Double D had gone to? No… it seemed too normal for that. Where on earth was he?

He suddenly found himself propelled forward without moving. He now stood on a dock over a lake. A man towered over him, carrying some sort of blade. The man was slightly overweight, and there was something… changing about him.

_"HELLO, JIMMY. IT'S NICE TO MEET YOU."_

"Who are you?" Jimmy asked fearfully.

_"MY NAME IS SEYMOUR CYRUS. I'M IN YOUR DREAM."_

Jimmy was unable to even attempt to move—he remained completely calm towards the man.

_"JASON NEEDS BLOOD TO COME TO LIFE. YOU SEEM LIKE A NICE ENOUGH BOY ON THE OUTSIDE, BUT YOU CAN BE FAIRLY WICKED WHEN YOU WANT TO. THAT'S WHY I CHOSE TO KILL YOU."_

A white substance began forming on the man's face. His face was completely covered by it. He raised the blade and brought it down on Jimmy's head.

The covering on the man's face slowly took the form of a hockey mask.

* * *

Author's Notes: _**Who's alive? Who's dead? Read on, you moron! God, what kinda idiots does this guy write for?**_

_Oh, hey what's—OH MY GOD, A MAN WITH A HAT!_

_**Relax, I ain't gonna kill you. Just stab you a little.**_

_Where's the guy with the apron and the giant knife?_

_**I sent him to Silent Hill. He's right at home there.**_

_No—what are you—AHHHH!_

_**Well, that was fun. Hmm… seriously, how am I typing with this glove on? Well, anyways, the rap in this fic was 'Cash Money Monsters' by Picnic Face. You can find it on th Internet if I don't kill you first.**_

_I can't feel my skin..._


	13. October 13th

October 13th

**October 13****th**

* * *

The world ended with blood.

Blood splattered the floors and walls of Peach Creek Heart Hospital. The stench of the dead filled the house of life as the early hours of the morning crawled into being. At the end of the massacre, three figures walked out of the house—the man leading them smiled nervously at his joy.

"22 victims."

There was shrieking down below.

* * *

7:00 AM:

"My parents are in there!" Double D begged the police-officers who guarded the yellow-tape surrounding the hospital. "Please—you must let me aid in the investigation! I'm qualified!"

The superior officer—we'll call him Officer Leg-Eater—shook his head solemnly. "No can do, little squishy." He reached over the fence-like tape and patronizingly patted Double D on the head. The Ed shot Leg-Eater a death-glance as he drew his hand back.

"The Psychonauts assigned to this case don't want anyone screwing around." Leg-Eater was oblivious to the look Eddward had given him. "Sorry, kiddo."

Double D struggled to suppress the urge to burn Leg-Eater alive. "Could you just tell me who Psychonaut agents are?"

* * *

7:01 AM:

"Figures I get assigned to a piece-of-shit case like this." The 17-year old boy took a photograph of several blood splatters using a strange, purple camera. The boy wore sunglasses and a leather jacket over a plain white tee. His hair was finely-greased and he had a fairly violent air around him.

"I get sent to a backwater town like Peach Creek…" He took a picture of a corpse with an IV stabbed right through it. A nametag on the corpse read 'HIDANSTEIN, CHIEF OF MEDICINE'.

The teenager finally put the camera in his pants-pocket and began walking forward casually. Whoever had done this was twisted—more than the usual freaks that Psychonauts dealt with. There were bloody handprints on the ceiling, for crying out loud! How the hell was that even possible?!

The cell-phone strapped to his belt rang. After a few seconds of letting the sucker wait, he answered the cell-phone (an image of a brain was stamped on the back) and sighed.

"Y'ello?"

_"Hey, Max. It's Raz. Have you found any survivors?"_

"One or two." Max rubbed his hand in his greasy hair and groaned. "But from what we found out, this guy's just trying to kill 22 people—why'd he wipe out an entire hospital?"

_"I don't know! I'm barely twelve!"_

Max angrily hung up on the other Psychonaut and continued walking. Then, as if someone was just trying to get him pissed, the phone rang again. He answered it.

"Want hell do the what you?! Oh… what the freaking hell do you want?!"

_"Nice to hear from you, too, Max."_ The familiar, nerdy voice whistled into Max's ear. Max groaned with annoyance—it was Edd.

_"Listen, Max… I know that you're probably busy with Psychonaut stuff, but I was just wondering if you knew which Psychonauts are investigating the murders in Peach Creek."_

Facial expressions can't be seen over the phone—Max was free to smirk. "Nope. I don't know nothing. Sorry."

_"Oh… okay… call me if you find anything o—"_

Max hung up as quickly as he could. Then, just to make sure he was safe, he dropped his phone on the ground and stomped on it.

He hated people.

The Psychonaut continued walking until he came to a supplies closet at the edge of the ICU. It was surprisingly un-blood splattered. Curious, he reached for the door handle and jiggled it a little.

Locked. That was w—

The door suddenly burst open and a skinny, black-haired man jumped out. He pinned Max to the ground with a mop and glared in his eyes angrily.

"Okay…" Johnny C. hissed. "What the hell happened?!"

* * *

1:45 PM:

"Did you hear?" "Yeah. 30 whole marshmallows!" "What? No! Jimmy's dead." "Who's Jimmy?" "The girly kid with the retainer and the fancy shampoo." "Oh, yeah, her." "Her—what? Him! Jimmy was a guy!"

"Oh. Yeah, that explains the name…" "Kevin died, too! What's going on, man?" "Maybe it' a holiday or something." "What kind of holiday lets you kill people?!" "Don't the Arabs have one?" "Dude! _I'm_ Muslim!"

"Oh. Yeah, that explains your religious practices…" "What the hell's wrong with you?! Are you high again?" "Not in school, man—I need to get good grades." "Yeah, whatever. I'm just worried." "Hey, it'll be okay. It'll be like slasher movies—one of us is bound to survive!" "How is that good?!"

"I don't know, man. Maybe I _am_ high."

* * *

6:00 PM:

Wesley stepped out of the door to his shop and into the cold, forgiving alley. He adjusted his coat and made his way towards the street, unaware of eyes watching him.

The shopkeeper messed with something in his pocket. It was important he got rid of it before midnight—otherwise, a whole mess of bad crap would go down.

After a few minutes, Wesley became aware that he was being followed. He turned around to see exactly what he expected. A man wearing a hockey-mask stood behind him, machete at the ready.

"Oh, hello." Wesley nodded. "You're Leatherface, right?"

Jason Voorhees merely shook his head.

Wesley sighed sadly. "I'm sorry—my memory's not what it used to be. It used to be a unicorn. I take it you're here to kill me?"

Jason didn't answer. He merely raised his machete into the air and brought it down.

There was a chorus down below.


End file.
